


Cerise Fractions of Our Shared Past

by DeyaniraSan, Niahara_Erskine



Series: Sometimes, when you fall, you fly [1]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Angel!Aomine, Angel!Kuroko, Angels, Angst, Apparently we are dragging all the myths and religions in this so buckle up, Demon!Akashi, Demon!Kise, Demons, Discontinuous Timeline, Drama, Fluff and Angst, God's A+ Parenting, M/M, Mates, Witch!Momoi, but the others will feature too, main ship is akakuro, more to be added - Freeform, some sort of Good Omens AU?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-02-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 10:11:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 16,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13315941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeyaniraSan/pseuds/DeyaniraSan, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niahara_Erskine/pseuds/Niahara_Erskine
Summary: "Well...," he began, and Kuroko thought uselessly of other countless instances that had started with the same disastrous word.'Well', and then there was the plague.'Well,' and then there was that incident with the witch.'Well', and then death had followed, and pain, and loss and so much heartbreak.Well... And he had Fallen, destroying everything along with his choices."I am in need of your help, Tetsuya," Akashi started slowly.In a world of Angels and Demons, as the Fight between Good and Bad reaches the final act of its play, Akashi Seijuurou, one of the most important demons in Hell encounters an unwanted surprise as his Grace is stolen. Weakened to a mortal's strength he reaches out to an unwilling ally, a person he had not contacted in the last millennia after his Fall without a catch. As it is, even as conflicted feelings still drive Kuroko away from the devil, while also pulling him back closer to the other, he decides to help, yet the conflicted story behind this sudden surprise is far more complex than any of them would have anticipated.





	1. Checkered Mirrors (Alternatively: Idiots who Fall shouldn't keep barging into my life and ruin it)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! This is some sort of RP that kinda got out of control and turned into a co-fic with Niahara here. The premise is about a Good Omens AU by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, but no worries if you haven't read this since this can be very well be read as a stand alone (and because, cough, of me taking over the plot and changing everything; sorry not sorry, Nia). For this it mostly starts with a Present Day AU, but will most probably feature a discontinuous timeline, with no end in sight as of the moment. Please free to give let us know what you think of this unexpected mesh of fandoms, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Kuroko: DeyaniraSan  
> Akashi: Niahara_Eskine.

It was positively amusing, the demon mused, the changes undergone by this patch of dirt called Earth, a mere planet, Shaped into Being at the Dawn of Creation alongside many others, plain and unassuming and yet so much More. A mere speck of dirt in the eyes of the Universe shaped by their Father, and yet it had seen so much change, all due to the foolish little creatures God seemed to favour so. From the Garden to Babylon, from Egypt to Jerusalem, from the Crusades to the Renaissance, from Europe to Asia, from Then to Now, so many changes in the span of time that was a blink of the eye for him and his kind. For their kind.  
  
And yet some things remained unchanged, untouched. Still, as himself, a pillar of stone undisturbed by the tide of time, a constant element in the ever-evolving playground God had brought to life. It was, in a way, comforting, he supposed, to share the same fate with another even when the world itself showed no more familiarity now than it had a decade, a century or even a millennia ago.  
  
Even if that someone was an enemy.  
  
Or at least was supposed to.  
  
Akashi had never let anyone else stand in his path, not even the unfortunate rules of Heaven and Hell.  
  
And neither had his counterpart.

* * *

They were supposed to meet, a summoning unusual for either of them after such a long time apart. Yet, it was not melancholy that touched Akashi’s thoughts as he walked towards their meeting point, his eyes catching the fraying rays of the sun slipping down along the horizon. It was excitement, perhaps a feeling he shouldn't be allowed to dwell in after everything that happened between him and the other.

The summer breeze was surprisingly cold against his face, as he walked surely on the pavement with the type of grace that it made humans unconsciously move out of his way, even as he never met anyone's eyes. The demon simply had a few things on his mind, not the smallest of them being apprehension at the upcoming meeting, at seeing him after quite some time, only to have some... amazing news to break.

Perhaps it was unfair of a demon to feel like he had been... well betrayed wasn't the right word, but perhaps left behind after everything that had happened after the Fall, but he had missed the other's company many times, and knowing they would not share the same space out of leisure again wasn't exactly satisfying. But he knew it was probable that were the situation any different, Kuroko wouldn't have come.

Nervously, he stopped in front of the cafe, the seaside breeze ruffling his fiery locks, as he took a moment to feel the atmosphere, barely resisting the pull as soon as he felt the familiar cool touch of angelic grace on his skin. It had been long. Far too long in fact, and at the same time not long enough as he would never have dared bother the other again if it weren't for what he was about to ask. Even if he could not see him yet, he knew Kuroko was inside, hidden from the sun's last dying moments which painted the sky in overlaying shades of vermilion and orange, the Mediterranean slowly reflecting the blazing painting on its clear surface with lazy waves.

Akashi wasn't a coward, but before he entered the quaint cafe overlooking the gulf, he simply inhaled a deep breath. It wasn't enough, but the crisp air just slightly humid smelling of salt and restlessness specific of all places near a waterfront was refreshing. If he also felt a sugary, all too familiar scent of vanilla, he simply pretended that the memory of it did not hurt as much as it usually did each time, a searing pain of revulsion and yearning pushing somewhere deep in his chest. Nevertheless, he entered the cafe with a smile, a bell chirping behind him as he pushed open the door, the cozy familiarity of the cafe indifferent to him as his eyes searched for the one he came to meet.

The angel rose his eyes from the book they had been riveted on upon hearing footsteps close, cerulean eyes betraying no hint of surprise as Akashi settled himself at his table, in the chair opposite him, stylish black suit a sharp contrast to the angel’s own mismatched outfit, an array of patterns and textures clashing together so sharply that for the briefest of moments Akashi felt the urge to flinch. That outfit had to go; in flames most preferably. A short beckoning gesture had the waitress appear at his side, the order for a simple espresso making the woman dart away as quickly as she had appeared.  
  
“Tetsuya,” Akashi finally greeted, red-gold gaze settling upon the other.  
  
“Akashi-kun.”  
  
It was amusing, truly, how tightly the angel held to petty human customs of politeness when the both of them were so much More than humanity could ever perceive. Amusing and perhaps a tad endearing, although Akashi truly despaired it would take perhaps yet another century to get Tetsuya to call him by his chosen name without any pesky formalities.

“Tetsuya, I distinctly recall asking you to call me Seijuurou,” Akashi chided with a smirk, mismatched gaze bearing into Tetsuya’s own, unamused one.  
  
“Akashi-kun,” the angel persisted stubbornly and to those that did not know him the exchange would have appeared flat, emotionless, but Akashi could see a spark of mischief in the blue eyes, a soft turn of the lips that showed he was doing it on purpose for no reason but merely to rile the other up. “I had not been expecting you to join me today. Weren’t you supposed to be in London to thwart that company merger and ruin a few thousands lives?”  
  
“Ah, yes, unfortunately there has been a delay,” Akashi mused, placing his head on his folded hands as he regarded Tetsuya with a bemused red-gold gaze. “Our brethren have apparently managed to start the Apocalypse by being delightfully incompetent in their attempts to postpone it. Amusing though it might be to witness their useless floundering, an Apocalypse is bad for business. I will merely have to wait until someone else inevitably picks up the slack and stops it.”  
  
“And you are so sure someone will do so?” the angel asked with a raised eyebrow, his lips closing around the pink straw of his milkshake and taking a sip of his preferred drink. “I had thought your Side was firmly on board with the plan of Ending the world. It is after all why they started it in the first place, was it not? Antichrist and all.”

It did not mean that Kuroko’s own Side was any less enthusiastic about the End. “Perhaps the Apocalypse will come to be, as all have heralded. And then there will be no more business and Akashi-kun will have to renounce his usual methods of having fun.”

There would also be no more meetings as well, rare though they might be, resentment flaring all too oft in such cases mingled with bittersweet recollection and masked fondness, their unburied past a spectre that yet haunted them, but tied them together nonetheless. There would be only War, ruthless, relentless, a Battle heralding destruction that neither of them wanted.

“That is hardly going to be the case,” the demon scoffed, eyes glowing brightly in the dim lit atmosphere of the restaurant. “My word is absolute, Tetsuya, you of all beings should know this. There shall be no Apocalypse, not this time.”

His Side wished for it, that much was true. Tetsuya’s Side as well. But there were others like them still for whom Earth was more than a mere indulgence to pass the time until the heralded End came, others for whom this lacklustre patch of dirt, no matter how fair or foul it could be, was home and freedom and the sweet illusion of Free Will. They would not stand idle to see it fall to ruin. Akashi expected them to play their part, dim witted though they might be.  
  
“Very well, it seems I shall have to trust Akashi-kun in this matter,” Tetsuya nodded briefly, an indulgent smile flaring on his placid features for but a brief moment. “In this case, if there is no Apocalypse to be had and no business to be attended to, what prompted your decision to join me?”  
  
“Ah, but that is the question, is it not?” Akashi grinned, his smile all sharp edges and wry amusement, a visage truly befitting a demon. “What do you say about a trip, Tetsuya?”

Kuroko simply lifted one pointed eyebrow at the words, his mouth stopping its sucking movements on the straw of its drink. And it didn't take a century for anyone to know that there shouldn't be any force on earth to stop Kuroko from drinking his vanilla milkshake (ave humanity!). Knowing there was no way Akashi would miss this, he simply turned a deadpan glare towards his... ally.

"So you're telling me you called me all the way here, so Akashi-kun can tell me Apocalypse started, but it's a no biggie so we should go on a trip," he summarised deeply unimpressed. Well, a smart part of his brain simply thought it was his own fault for having expected anything relatively normal and in the realm of availability when he had first heard from the redhead since the invention of cassettes.

"Akashi-kun," Kuroko stated slowly, very slowly, as if gathering strength from each pointed second passing in between his words as he tried (really, really hard) not to chuck the milkshake towards his innocently smiling face (the blasphemy! and no he didn't mean the paradox of calling Akashi innocent). "You realise I live in Maine right?"

When Akashi simply gazed blankly at him without moving an inch in his place, a judgemental blank stare Kuroko was used to (and annoyed with) for several centuries now, he continued taking advantage of all his heavenly grace to keep his voice even. "And right now we're in Spain. Just because they rhyme, these places haven't been on the same continent for some millennia," he concluded sarcastically, more than a touch bitter about the whole scenario, hoping Akashi would have the decency to not ignore him so kindly calling him an idiot.

"The weather is nicer here," Akashi stated simply as if that was enough reason to pull anyone through international transit and travelling, a whole passing moment of fancy enough to justify being so extra as to have Kuroko waste half of his budget for this year for this flight. The lights flickered in the nice coast cafe, and perhaps in the distance the thunder rumbled, but he was too preoccupied sending glares at the smug bastard in front of him.

"Tch. No need to be so dramatic, Tetsuya," Akashi commented totally unfazed by the other's anger, or the panicked voices at the small transient darkness.

"I am contemplating stabbing you right now," Kuroko answered simply as if pointing out the walls were wooden, loudly slurping all that remained from his milkshake in one go, hoping that the overly sweet drink could somehow restrain and exorcise his less nicer feelings.

Akashi laughed in wicked delight, mischievousness dancing on his features as he beheld the fuming angel in front of him. It was always amusing to rile Tetsuya up, more so than the supposed battles they should have waged, the tributes in blood and death that their Sides would have otherwise requested of them had they not been so utterly unconcerned with their point of view. Heaven, Hell, they were mere Sides at the end of the day and Earth was more of a delight than anything Above or Below could offer. “Not a mere trip, of course, Tetsuya. I rather hope you have more faith in me than to simply believe I have asked you all the way here for the casualness of a holiday.”

The words were uttered with an unconcerned confidence, the choice of phrasing spoken with careless casualty, with an assurance that betrayed a bond that spanned millennia. Faith, not trust, Akashi had said without hesitation and Tetsuya needed not correct him. Faith, it had always been a matter of faith between the two of them. And perhaps it should have been blasphemous really, the request of such divine emotion from a hellish being, but past choices had long sealed their fate. Tetsuya had faith in Akashi, for all the headaches the redhead subjected him to and in return the angel knew the other held faith in him, a most curious thing for a demon, and yet one that could not be contested. Not since that moment. Not since they had both stood upon the precipice, the abyss stretching at their feet, awaiting their plunge and instead of sacrificing the other, they had turned their back on all they had known, preferring to forge their own path. Saved each other in all the ways that counted.

“My faith in Akashi-kun has nothing to do with my knowledge of the rather distorted sense of humor you possess,” Kuroko pointed out simply, abandoning his recollection of the past and closing his hand around the now empty milkshake recipient as if contemplating using it for bludgeon Akashi with it in lieu of a real weapon. “It is not as if you have not once summoned me to France all the way from Israel simply because you were bored the country was no longer rife with political strife.“

"As if the French would ever completely run out of political strife," Akashi chided  good naturedly, his smile soft and just slightly amused. The implication behind it wasn't lost on Kuroko. They had known each other since forever, not as an exaggeration or a method of speech, but simply there was no way to untangle the messed up frayed strings of what made up his own past from Akashi’s. He knew, without wanting to almost, every inflection the other could come up with, every look and smile, and it was a choked feeling, painful even as it was warm with which he realised that Akashi simply admitted calling for him because he had wanted to more than anything else. And it was unnerving, some sort of life changing realisation of the sort an eternal being must not spend too much time pondering on, least they lose their mind.

There were so many ways this realisation and conversation could go, so many memories most painful that threatened to strangle the breath out of his lungs, and even more to light his skin on fire from their intensity. Nevertheless, it was one universal truth that Akashi would always call and demand, a downside of his nature. And it was another universal answer that Kuroko would come in the end, a mockery of sorts of his divine single mindedness.

Kuroko sighed, a deep weary sound, because as much as he wanted to live in the moment and indulge in the momentary anger towards his worst counterpart, he hated pretending more. So, he simply asked the question burning curiously - and definitely not worried- on the back of his mind since he had seen one single folded parchment on his desk a few weeks back:  
  
"Why did you call for me, Akashi kun?"

There was a pregnant pause following his words, some sort of silence descending on the small alcove at their table even if the buzz of the other patrons filtered through the air like wispy fragments of reality that didn't really feel real.

Kuroko waited for a few seconds as his attention was switched to his straw once more, playing with it as he waited for the other to speak, but as nothing but the lull of the day caught in his ears he finally raised his head and set his eyes on the redhead in front of him.

Akashi looked unusually uncomfortable, in a way no one could say truly had seen him before - besides Kuroko that is, but it was clear by now he had seen more than his share of everything the other had to offer. Nevertheless, the sight of the other one looking thoughtful - if he were honest to point out quite bashful - immediately set a jet of icy cold dread in his system, more awakening than all the coffee in the world as it blasted his nerves with anticipations. Nothing had ever been more worrisome than Akashi slowly choosing his words.

"What is it," Kuroko demanded halfway between vexed, barely able to control his grace from flaring out in an attempt to strangle the answers from the other, and worried, not that he would admit this.

Akashi flashed him a small smile, that was more a facade for his embarrassment and Kuroko groaned letting his head slip on the table with a thud. "What did you do?" he whined, and no he wasn't petulant, even after too many similar instances in far too many different times.

Akashi opened his mouth to deny the accusation, but one blazing glare with just the tiniest bits of gold specks shining along an ocean of blue shut him up pretty quickly. Instead, he coughed awkwardly, his hands shifting to cross over his chest wrinkling the suit before he spoke.

"Well...," he began, and Kuroko thought uselessly of other countless instances that had started with the same disastrous word. Perhaps, later on, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that this was indeed another disastrous beginning of another adventure, but he didn't have that hindsight in the moment. Instead, time stretched endlessly as it was wont to do when tragedy struck, the syllables rolling in the same familiar voice bringing back memories of eons long forgotten and scars long rotten over.

 _'Well'_ , and then there was the plague.

 _'Well_ ,' and then there was that incident with the witch.

 _'Well'_ , and then death had followed, and pain, and loss and so much heartbreak.

Well... And he had Fallen, destroying _everything_ along with his choices.

Perhaps the divine forces would excuse Kuroko for being apprehensive when this word showed up in their conversations.

He was showed just a second later how _well_ he knew his other half, and how not well everything was.

"I am in need of your help, Tetsuya," Akashi started slowly, lowly, his voice charismatic and soothing as if approaching a wild animal ready to pounce, thus already grating on Kuroko’s nerves and making him feel the beginning of a headache.

"It is about my grace," he admitted finally, and it took Kuroko one moment of gaping, not even enough for him to muster the absolute shock at hearing this of all things, before the other continued. "I think I might have... lost it."

It was amusing. If he were anyone else it would've been hilarious, but unfortunately Kuroko could only gape helplessly, not even realising the grip on his empty cup tightened until the thing turned into something resembling a ball, before it started melting. Oh, and the temperature started to rise, slowly, a precipice of nature before the volcano of Kuroko's anger exploded and destroyed everything, making the patrons around them unknowingly uncomfortable.

Akashi had the audacity to look sheepish of all things, and Kuroko barely contained his nature from exploding from his human form to tear down into the other, his mouth curving into a snarl as melted plastic seeped onto his skin, branding him as painfully as the tempest just starting to rage on the inside.

Akashi opened his mouth to say something, anything really, but Kuroko only rumbled in his throat, at the edge of his control, not even wanting to hear the excuses the other would make about this of all things, his grace writhing inside with the force of a thousand cooling snakes begging to lash out in a very non angelic way.

With one last snarl, Kuroko got to his feet, the chair falling behind him with a loud screeching sound and he left the cafe without even trying to contain the hateful look he sent the redhead, his eyes flashing an inhuman gold as his patience snapped.

Akashi watched his retreating back, a momentarily flinch passing over his face at the other's very obvious fury, before taking the last sip of his coffee. Carefully, he put on his coat, before taking a few paper money out of his wallet and putting them on the table without even asking for the bill. With a sigh at the other's dramatic exit, as if he had all the right in the world to comment or the condemn his behaviour, he shook his head before leaving the cafe to trail after the angel and continue the conversation. Perhaps make sure that some lesser beings were also safe from his rage, because say what he would, Kuroko would not take kindly to murdering others in his anger, which would eventually obviously be his fault if it happened.

Oh, well... this went well.


	2. Uncountable Loses (Alternatively: Witches, myths, and so many unsaid feelings can make a conversation very interesting)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for reading after such a long wait! This chapter will be set in a past (in case it isn't obvious) with events underlying the present action. We will come back the next chapter to Akashi and Kuroko in modern Europe, until then I hope you will enjoy this mish-mash of myths and legends.

In hindsight, they should have expected it. Years upon years down the road, researching the past of what they had first – erroneously – believed to be merely an unassuming man from Avignon, the gravity of the facts hit them with all the finesse of a blunt instrument. However, then and there, one faux move after another led to a catastrophe that could have been averted had they been more careful – not that Akashi would have ever admitted it.

It started with a witch.

Of course, many stories in the 1600s do so, and yet this was no ordinary witch.

She was not the type of witch whose heart burned dark with malice, soul long sold to the demons that did her biding, her only companions the flickering candlelight fading slowly in the penumbra of her abode and the half feral cat snarling hatefully from the corner of her cottage. Nor the type wrongly accused, as so many were at that time, a mere innocent woman deemed to be a follower of Satan because of nothing more than her gender and the slanderous words of the townsfolk around her, vitriol tying her at the stake as surely as the hands of the executioner did.

No, Momoi was a witch that fit neither category. A tender-hearted mien and sunshine disposition hiding the power cracking at her command, unafraid to dabble in the arts most forbidden, yet untainted by the forces she controlled.

Perhaps that was what made her more dangerous than anything the vice-inquisitor of Avignon would have expected. And kinder than anyone Akashi and Kuroko had ever encountered.

And perhaps that was exactly the reason why, despite all odds, they all made it out of that particular ordeal, no matter how impossible it might have seemed at first.

* * *

The church echoed dully as the man stepped inside, his wooden staff clasped between his hands, only the paleness of his skin visible, as the grey cape he was wearing hid any and all his features in shadows. Even with the moonless night seemingly darker than the blackest pits of hell, no light coming to aid him as he made his way towards the altar, his steps were undisturbed by darkness or the smallest touches of sound. The man was similar to an apparition as he glided over the well used tiles, almost worn into the ground by time and neglect of what had been a sacred place for humanity, even if it did not bother to bend to the will of its true Maker.

Him of all people should have known all this; after all, Kuroko had been the closest to humanity since its creation.

Not that it mattered much anymore; he had long ago abandoned what had been his duty - not that there had been many to enforce it on him even if they remembered it after the First War. He had been unknown before everything, and overlooked after, barely existing as everyone suffered through their own grief and fought their own struggles, their eyes turning away from what had been His most complex Creation. And Kuroko had spent his time - for a while - doing what he knew had to be done, but in the end he realised he had been cast away similarly to how the demons had been, angels no longer paying any attention to him. And well, with the reapers having most authority over these matters, it became futile to even  _ try _ , and he just... gave up.

Even so, he did not return to Heaven, the place an empty reminder of what he had lost - what they all have lost, and even after so many millennia, the absence of the others was so poignant that it hurt, a burning reminder of agony that was never too far away from his mind no matter in how many vices he indulged or how many distractions he found. Perhaps, he thought not for the first time, they were all punished, not only just the Fallen, for not having prevented what had happened. An idea he could not linger on for too long, the possibility and pain of it still too much to think about even after so long.

It had come as a surprise that he heard about this place in his mindless travellings. A long time ago he had lavished in most of life and humanity had to offer, and getting bored with it all decided to revel in what the inhuman side of the world had to offer. It had started to get out of hand lately, he mussed, and the mortals had observed and feared - a never ending cycle since the darker ages, an exploited lust for power resulting in fear. Nevertheless, he cared no more for such trifles of the world, having seen too many of them in his long, long life, but he cared about the rumours surrounding this particular object.

The Holy Grail was surrounded by mysticism in the supernatural realm, and in the human one, thus making it highly desirable by most. Even so, what they wished to accomplish with it was beyond Kuroko; it could never work to give them what they desired, the real power of the object unable to be used by lower beings. But him... well, even if he had not used his powers for far too long, if he checked what it could accomplish, it might very well change the rules of the whole game.

He casually shrugged off that it went against the very wishes their Father had expressed before the beginning of time itself, and for the fact he was acting very unlike his nature. Not that he had ever fit with most angels, and the ones that remained had left him behind... and there was not a lot of grief Kuroko had to spare for 'what ifs' when his chest felt sunken if he let his thoughts wander just a bit too far.

The altar in the middle of the pagan church wasn't even visible anymore, the place where it had once stood a few centuries back lost to time. Yet, his inhuman eyes could see very well the memories overlapping the reality of the present, and without having to spend too much time the angel figured where the secret slab of stone was supposed to be. With a well placed knock of his staff that sounded more like the crashing of cities and death of mankind in the quiet of the night in the mostly demolished building, his thoughts were confirmed, the sound just the tiniest bit of odd, of something to indicate there was something more in the belly of earth around this place, an easy fact to overlook for a human or even some lesser creature.

Nodding to himself, the man held unnaturally still for a second. The quiet settled over the night, but it was not natural by any means, the quiet hush over the world seemingly more like a blanket of nothingness enveloping everything, suffocating the sounds from the reality, the atmosphere charged with power. Then, almost unexpectedly, the staff went in through rock, the cracking and shattering of a barrier reverberating in the nightscape, making most creatures alive shudder and feel like running away with an ancient undiluted sense of self-preservation.

The angel did not even bat an eye at his handiwork, besides an affronted look towards his staff as if the undignified loudness of the whole process besmirched his expectations of everything going smoothly. Even so, without needing to light up the way he stepped forward, his shoes slightly sinking in the earth beneath his feat as he went down, down, down bellow into an even deeper darkness.

What the angel hadn't planned in this whole affair - even if in reality it hadn't been a lot of thinking and planning on his part considering he had lived through most of modern history and more, a fact that would have unfortunately make even an immortal if not arrogant, then quite confident at least, and had had quite the role to play, not that he did play it - was to find the real altar beneath the earth empty. In the darkness it was impossible to tell whether Kuroko frowned or he took in the pagan banners, rotten offerings and chalices left around with surprise or anger. But even so, the angel felt the unusual jolt of surprise shocking his system as he definitely did not feel the slight tingle on his skin that he was supposed to feel near any heavenly object, nevertheless from the cup that God himself had once used.

But there was nothing, no energy, no surge of shocking coldness, nothing if he were to be honest, just earth and the slight feel of sacred offerings all holy things in the world seem to emanate.

To say it was disquieting would have been an understatement.

And then he felt  _ it _ , a smell that definitely did not belong in such a place, the familiarity of it surprising him enough to make him visibly jolt as he backed up towards the entrance of the cave, his hands slightly shaking as they gripped his staff. Even if he tried to deny it, the slightly ashen smell of smoke and pinewood, combined with fresh fallen snow did not leave, even if it was twisted, diluted, either by time or intentionally. But there was nothing that could ever make him not recognise that specific scent, something that had long ago belonged to a being that had meant his whole world.

Kuroko didn't know how long he stayed inside the altar beneath the earth, but eventually he found it in himself to climb back up. The stone fixed itself with just one glare from his golden angelic eyes sent its way, the whole place looking just as untouched as it had been for centuries before he stepped in.

This changed everything, to an uglier extent. Nevermind that what he had thought to do before seemed impossible, now it seemed like plain madness. Even so, he knew exactly where the Grail was, a bit too close for comfort to the person he would have eventually used it on.

With a sigh and almost an invisible flutter in the air, the hooded figure disappeared from the night unseen and inexistent as a ghost of reality, not a trace to be seen of his presence there.

* * *

The bells of the land rose up in mourning, a pitiful dirge lamenting across Camelot as the people gathered, some weeping, some solemn, their eyes locked upon the pyre built in the courtyard of the castle and the unmoving figure laid on the bed of wood. Arthur was peaceful in death, serene as he had not been in life, hands clasped gently upon his chest, the red of Camelot blanketing his lifeless body as the winds gently rustled the crimson cloak he was wrapped in.

She did not remain to watch the proceedings; hidden among the crowd, a coarse cotton cloak shielding her features from view, the woman turned her back upon the pyre, the distance between herself and the one history later would claim to be her mortal enemy widening with each step she took. She mourned Arthur’s death, as deeply as the townsfolk did or perhaps even more so, mourned the fair-haired child that once gazed at her with eyes full of adoration and the courageous young man that ran across the realm to slay the monsters preying upon the weak, be they human or not. She mourned the just young king upon whose shoulders the weight of leadership pressed too hard and the bitter man he grew to be, jaded and disillusioned, but no less in love with his lands.

Years upon years down the road, history would pain her as a temptress, a hateful witch, a malevolent force of magic that preyed upon the people of Camelot and betrayed their king at every turn. A green-eyed devil fueled by jealousy, rage and bitterness that sought to ruin the lands that once sheltered her. The truth could not be more different, but she had neither the time nor the inclination, in that moment or the many to come, to set history right.

Her steps veered away from Camelot, away from the high, stone walls and the trumpets whose last notes of mourning echoed in the dying light, away from its banners and turrets. Barefoot, her cloak cast aside once it was safe to do so, she turned to paths known to none but precious few, the song of Old Magic echoing in bark and stone, its power dancing upon her bare skin while she moved, gently embracing one that belongs to it more than anyone else.

The altar was but a few miles away, hidden deep in the forest, the cold slab glittering softly as the dying Sun’s rays caught filaments of silver upon its surface. Innocuous at a first glance, the vestiges of blood and bone long erased by the passage of time, the only memento of the sacrifices it had seen lingering in the memories of old crones huddled in their woolen shawls, their crotchety voices echoing with bitterness as they spoke of babes stolen from their baskets and maidens kidnapped from their path.

It was ironic perhaps, that the heart of pagan power would have been chosen as sanctuary for an item so Holy in nature, yet perhaps not surprising. Arthur’s knights had never been among the most knowledgeable in the old lore and Uther had long erased the history of Old Magic. To Galahad it would have seemed a shelter nothing more, a place to store the goblet until the funerals had passed and he could return to it once more, bring it to the hands of the rightful Queen perhaps.

A fool’s move, but one that helped her immeasurably. It would have been nigh impossible to steal the Holy Grail from Camelot. Here, at the roots of pagan power, there was no one to stop her. Pale fingers closed around the handle of the cup, a small smile etched on her features as the witch lifted the Grail and held it in her grasp.

Perhaps she should not have been surprised that all Hell broke loose because of that very action.

Well, perhaps not all Hell but part of it anyway. The part she had had no desire of meeting in any circumstances.

* * *

It was hard to pick up the trail of the Grail again after Kuroko had lost it in the place where the thing  _ was supposed to be _ . Yet, nevertheless he was persistent and old and with a lot of time to spare, so after shock - and a few hours of angry sulking - he breathed in and decided it was a good as time as any to try and reinstate his long lost contacts in the supernatural world to see what he could come up with.

Not that this particular feat was achievable as he had isolated himself in the past few centuries, avoiding demons, avoiding gods and other creatures, and definitely avoiding angels. Yet, even if he had been forgotten, his name still carried some weight and his senses had never truly dulled even after millennia of hedonistic misuse - not that he would be grateful were someone to accuse him of that since the reasons he had reached that point were the root of all problems.

Still, going back and reemerging in the human society was shocking after so much time in solitude.

The world had changed, as it had always been meant to, but the transition was still shocking since the last time he had spent time around a community had been far too long ago. The passage of time had passed him by, grains of sand falling in an hourglass, pesky and relentless, but not worth contemplating, not if he did not wish to be reminded of his own immutable state, of the way in which this world with all its wonders fit him ill, its constant change a biting sort of mocking joke at his own nature. 

Even so, he never remembered the eras of the past being so...  _ filthy _ .

Later on, perhaps sitting in a cosy house in the future, Kuroko would always frown and scoff disgruntled at how amazingly unpleasant London of that century was - a fact he had never truly forgotten or forgiven making him less inclined to visit the place even after such a long time.

After being more or less a monk for the past centuries, the whole city seemed an assault to his senses from the filth, the poignant combination of human deprivation and supernatural mischief, to the depravity of the humans. It vexed him, gave him headaches, and nevertheless made him lose trail of the Holiness he was following, a fact the person that had stolen it surely had intended.

Not for the first time in existence Kuroko cursed his worse counterpart, damning him - not that he already wasn't.    


_ Bastard _ , he seethed thinking of a still far too smug redhead, as he spent the better part of a month in the town scouring its underbelly and its very unattractive occupants.

Perhaps he remembered why he disliked supernatural creatures after all.

Even so, his searches proved fruitful in the end as he gazed upon the slightly modest and thankfully very clean house he was supposed he should investigate. It was completely inconspicuous, but Kuroko still gripped his staff for a second bracing as he knew who exactly would be waiting for him behind the two story house's doors, a meeting he was very unprepared for considering his current motivations.

His eyes moved briefly towards the clear night sky, imploring and exasperated at the same time as he almost blasphemed - not for the first time - and wished his Father would have worked in less mysterious and absurd ways.

The darkness was the perfect cover as he moved slowly towards the house, blissfully sighing as his boots touched the cold stone of the porch leaving behind the trail of scoured up mud humans confused to call a road. He didn't make a sound, all his grace encased inside his being tightly, almost like holding his breath deeply and painfully, his existence merely a shadow on the earth.

Not that would help against Akashi.

The door didn't need breaking, the hardwood not even closed properly displaying thus the cockiness of the inhabitants towards any potential treat - a mock invitation. Kuroko would have scoffed if his face hadn’t been sculpted in stone as he did his hardest to tame any stray emotion that could make his grace flare and give him away.

He didn't touch the door, and with just a push of his will the wooden slab slid open. Softly, he padded in the house, the floor not making any sound underneath his feet as he took the quaint but tastefully decorated interior consisting of a multitude of trinkets and herbs he mostly knew the use of. The door again didn't make any sound as it closed behind him, casting the house in a tomb like darkness, the velvet drapes not letting any starlight illuminate the inside.

Kuroko didn't let himself be fooled. There was an ancient feel to the place, a thing that tingled over his nerves with pinprick needless, almost like a sting, an almost long forgotten memory of Old Magic, a craft not truly practised by many mortals even as the current Inquisition of the Church claimed so. There was no question that a being very old and very skilled lived here, his eyes taking in sigils and wards hiddenly carved in the most unexpected places.

He didn't have to wait for long. Kuroko didn't step further into the house, politeness and manners coming only from someone as ancient and powerful as him making him patient enough to uphold a modicum of civility as he waited for the other one that lived him to come out and greet him. He wasn't disappointed.

His staff flew up before his attacker even realised, steel clacking with an unnatural sound against bark that belonged to a tree that did not grow in this dimension, the move instinctual against the strike. With a pivot, his attacker flew against the opposite wall of the entry way beyond the narrow staircase leading above and over the living room furniture. It had been a long while since he had fought and even longer since someone had been stupid enough to try and attack him like this. Yet his hands gripped his staff in a familiar grip, his body more than ready to fight if that was what the other wanted, his eyes narrowing angrily at the welcome.

"I could say nice to see you," Kuroko bit out politely, but he knew the other could feel the seething anger in the restlessness of his grace. As he approached the fallen figure smoke and ice reached his nose, a familiar scent that would always want to make him keen, bring him to the ground and weep from both happiness and sorrow. "I know our last encounter has perhaps not been as pleasant since you definitely did not keep in touch," and Kuroko would forever deny if anyone ever told him he was petulant in his accusation, "but going as far to attack me is a bit too far, don't you think so Akashi-kun?" he finished with an accusing frown as he stopped just near the kneeling figure wearing a similar cape that hid their features from his eyes.

What stopped him from further expressing his thoughts was the chuckle. The sound was unexpected, unwelcome even, a jolt passing through Kuroko's body at the foreignness of it, unfamiliar alien and definitely  _ feminine _ . The second thing he noticed quite in a stupor as his assailant raised their head to throw an amused glance his way was that the smell, even if familiar, more familiar than his own grace and being, a missing puzzle piece fitting and soothing his being was  _ wrong _ , a pungent sweetness of putrid flowers combined within it.

By that point his eyes were wide, unable to hide his complete surprise and confusion at the whole situation as blue met an amused and fiery pink, that was just the wrong shade of familiar intenseness.

"I would obviously have offered you tea and a seat were this a more... courteous visit, but as you had broken into my house I thought you wished to have a better welcoming party," the unfamiliar woman replied, her voice soft and highly amused, and even through his confusion Kuroko felt as if he were being mocked.

Instead he frowned, bringing his staff towards the woman's neck, cold intensity radiating from his being in an attempt to both intimidate and hide his real feelings in what had to be the most unexpected encounter in the past few millennia.

Oh, and they said life got boring.

"Who are you?" he asked simply, trying to reign in back the barrage of question standing at the tip of his tongue demanding almost viciously to know who she was and why she also smelled  _ like Akashi _ . Instead, he only gripped in the staff tighter, slightly pushing it into a fragile and mortal neck, which seemingly didn't bother the woman at all as she looked almost bored with his threat. "And what  _ are _ you?"

“Should I not ask you this?” the woman answered unconcerned, elegant fingers closing around the staff pointed towards her neck with reckless abandon, the grip tighter than any mortal could hope to possess. “You break into my house,” fire cracked along the spine of the staff, the flames powerless to harm the wood, yet threatening nonetheless, “unwanted and uncalled for,” her words turned to steel, pink eyes narrowing in anger as she rose from her kneeling position, the strength of her grip forcing a still slightly bewildered Kuroko to take a few step backwards before he came to his senses, angelic strength locking his feet firmly in place, the staff pushing pressing further in the woman’s neck, “and have the audacity to demand answers of me?”

It was perhaps, not a wholly unfounded question, Kuroko mused as he beheld the flames flaring with anger on the staff, the fire pressing close to the steel grip he held onto his weapon, and yet not pushing any further, their advance kept at bay, surprisingly, by the woman in front of him and not his own angelic powers. They had reached a stalemate, one the angel could break effortlessly should he so wish in one of two ways, the questions barraging in his mind still relentless, still unanswered, a maelstrom of confusion that had no outlet save for the answer that could be offered by the woman in front of him.

Sighing to himself, the angel retreated the staff, a pink imprint remaining on the woman’s neck where the bark had pressed into the skin. The other remained wary, her stance defensive, Old Magic dancing around her fingers even as her eyes flared pink-gold-pink, a succession of colors that showed the tenuous reign she had onto her anger, despite the level, if mocking tone of voice. The sword she had first attacked him with lay on the ground, simple and barely ornate, an unassuming blade of steel at first glance, yet one that pulsed with power. 

“Caledfwlch,” blue eyes blew wide with wonder upon spotting the small sigil etched in the hilt of the blade and the engraving, almost unseen as delicately as it had been etched, running across its length. “That sword is Caledfwlch. Excalibur. It should have been lost to history centuries ago.”   
  
“So it should have been,” the woman agreed, “the blade that Bedievere threw into the lake, to lie in its depth forever, alongside the scabbard. Or so they say. And yet... here she is.”

"Who or what are you?" Kuroko reiterated his former question, the desire to know more pressing than ever, the woman a mystery in itself, beyond her connection - of whatever sorts it was - to Akashi.

"I have had many names," the woman finally replied matter of factly, her eyes straying from the angel to her blade and back again. "Nowadays, you may call me Momoi."

"But that is not your real name," Kuroko points out, features schooled back into a most placid mien. "Is it?"

"It is the name I have chosen for myself. Surely that makes it realer than any other."

Kuroko felt the metaphorical slap of her words harder than her previous strike, his head moving without wanting to the side as pain and conflict raged within. The answer was plain but it held enough chastising power to make him small and powerless, more like a fool than anything. He knew more than anyone about names and how little or much they meant based upon how their owner thought of them.

After all, he probably had had more names than most, one identity after another disregarded faster than an old coat to linger in oblivion as the tides of time changed around him, and yet he stayed unchanged. And even in that multitudes of identity and masks of which he had grown more tired and weary there was in the end just one that mattered, a title that wasn't even a name but his current existence revolved around. Kuroko felt for the first time apologetic as he looked at the shorter woman who was watching him intently, her eyes mortal but more knowing than beings with twice her knowledge, piercing and seeing in a way that made his shackles rise and defences crumble into dust as tiredness spread through his bones.

"Forgive me," he started finally lowering his stance and seeing the incredulous look on the woman's - Momoi's face - at his sudden change of heart, yet she clearly wasn't alarmed by the whole endeavour. "That was indeed very hypocritical of me," he admitted slowly. "I was simply expecting someone else here prepared to give that person a different welcome."

Momoi simply stared at him for a moment before she sighed, her stance slowly relaxing as she put her hands over her hips and raised an expecting eyebrow at the other before bending down and taking a legendary sword in her hand to carelessly throw it on the couch next to her before sitting down herself.

"You would be surprised I actually don't get that a lot even with my circumstances, which suddenly made this visit so much more pleasant as I am retired." Kuroko was still too flabbergasted by the casual misuse of ancient artefact to even register her words. "To answer your previous question, the simple answer would be that I'm a witch," she commented mischievously, an unnatural wind playing through her hair an around the room at her words, "though few would know me as more than such. Considering your words and your actions it shows you'll be one of the troublesome factions that do, and also answers my own question on what you are. That leaves quite a simple answer on why you would think someone else is here," she stayed boldly leaning forward to take a teacup full of steaming liquid that was not there a second ago. Kuroko was both confused and enchanted taking a sit next to her she pointed towards the couch elegantly, curious now where this was going.

"And what makes you sure of that," Kuroko asked mildly amused at the other one that simply sent a brilliant smile his way now they were not attacking each other before offering him his own cup of tea.

"Well... let's put it like this. With your level of power and stone faced determination that senses something more about me that could either make you a heaven sentinel or a demonling. Considering your earlier outburst and ... forgive for stereotyping, your attitude that leaves just one possible explanation," she continued cheerfully. "Though why an angel would want with me makes me think. But there is more to this than just simply having an angel come to smite me for my unholiness, isn't it?" And Kuroko could see in some way she was amused about the whole situation now that it turned civil, a twist to life only old and bored beings tended to appreciate so. He felt his own mouth twitch silently when he considered her words, thinking of some millennia back when he could have been called anything but a stereotype of his kind, but decided not to correct the girl. His most pressing issue was that she  _ knew _ , a glint in his eyes that told him that this witch saw more in the depths of his soul than he was ever ready to give, and the feeling was painfully familiar from the boundless insight to the soothing presence as it dissected his soul bare that he almost choked with the pain of it.

Perhaps, it was because Momoi seemed to resemble Akashi of all people from before the Fall, perhaps it was because he was deeply tired, but Kuroko sighed and leaned back against the couch breaking contact from the empathetic but far too knowing gaze.

"Well, I can't say you aren't right," he admitted, and it had been so long, far too long when he had let himself be honest with himself and another. Momoi made a small sound of understanding before touching his hand softly.

"I'm sorry for what is it worth. The loss," she clarified before Kuroko could even ask, and the angel simply found his throat was constricting full of cotton balls, too tight to even breathe nevertheless speak. Instead, he nodded accepting the unwilling acceptance the other offered. Perhaps he should have freaked out; perhaps he should have smitted her for her knowledge, for actually  _ seeing _ the weakness in him most of them knew but never mentioned or acknowledged. Instead, damningly so, he leaned just for a second into the touch of this far too knowledgeable being, accepting both his pain and everything that it encompassed as the witch he wanted to smite not just a few seconds ago comforted him.

"Why are you here, Angel-kun," Momoi asked softly as Kuroko failed to even form an response to her blunt words, yet not unkind words. "You were clearly not looking for me or for this," she continued motioning to her abandoned sword. Kuroko sighed and it took too many seconds to cut through the feelings clouding and choking his soul to answer.

"I was looking for a mystical Grail," he admitted, unsure why he decided to be straightforward with this person. "You do not perchance have the Holy Grail around to spare, do you?"

Momoi didn't answer for a while, simply looking at the angel sitting next to her with a sharp look and keen eyes over the rim of her dainty held cup. Kuroko didn't know what she was seeing in him or what she was searching for, but she did seem to read more into his question than he had wanted her to see.

"And why would an angel be looking for such an artefact," she asked with a knowing tone that was also slightly reproachful, something like a mother figure or aunt would use not that Kuroko had the slightest clue how affection or guidance from a parent would feel like. "Forgive me for saying this, but most of its uses are actually unknown to the supernatural community, and its power most unholy even if it has been blessed. Why would an angel even look for such an object," she continued putting her cup down on the small platter with a clink that seemed to crack through the silence of the house with a decisive sound.

Kuroko didn't say anything at first, and apparently Momoi was less patient than she seemed because the next second she snapped. "Do you even know how to use it anyway? No offence, but why would someone that was never trained to deal with consequences in regards to their actions...," but towards the end her voice died down as Kuroko’s eyes almost flashed golden in anger towards the other woman, his throat closing almost painfully back on words about how  _ real  _ consequences and choices felt like. But in the end his anger died down, swiftly passing away like the touch of a cold winter wind being snuffed out to leave a wasteland in its wake. Momoi still looked angry, fiery, a storm caught in the shape of a girl, but her eyes were slightly apologetic and understanding, a familiar stubbornness in their depths that only managed to dig further in the conflicting hole in Kuroko’s heart.

He didn't know why he decided to be honest; perhaps he was tired of lies spun over the course of existence, loneliness a heavy companion to press on his shoulders followed by regret and doubt; perhaps there was something intrinsically familiar about Momoi, a soothing presence that inspired trust, some part of him wanting to reach to someone after such a long, long time. It didn't matter if it was selfish or selfless as he opened his mouth, to explain things, either because the witch in front of deserved to know or because he felt like drowning underneath the weight of his burden.

"It is the closest thing to the holiness Father had," he explained softly, his voice carrying just a tiny bit the touch of something ancient and very, very worn out. "It was Father who wiped out the grace from so many beings; perhaps it is Father who can restore it," he explained, the words clipped as only half thoughts that have whirled in his mind were finally exposed to the world to see, a vulnerable feeling of honesty.

Momoi simply watched him, even as her eyes widened in understanding, not needing too many words to get the truth behind what Kuroko sought to do. "You realise that in itself is an abomination, nevertheless probably impossible," she started slowly, and there wasn't caution in her words but pity and some honest regret that made Kuroko shudder with unwanted feelings.

Even so, she persisted softly and not wholly unkind. "Why do you even want to do this? Why do you even think it will work? Don't you think perhaps there are other ways to go around this aspect? Like talking?" she joked, but it was half hearted, a weak attempt that merely made Kuroko exhale a laugh somewhere between a sigh and a snort.

"You clearly know things," and Momoi only nodded not shying away from his icy gaze, "then you must know what happened during the Fall. Because of the Fall," and Momoi sighed, before shaking her head with an unsaid feeling.

"Briefly. Your kind does not really share a lot, even to someone like me."

"Then you gotta understand that a few of us were cut in half, left incomplete and wounded by something far more painful than physical wounds, a connection cut off that felt like losing yourself." And even if his voice was steady, almost controlled and emotionless as if recalling some historical facts, his blue eyes swam with gold and undiluted pain, so raw even after millennia of stuffing it away.

Momoi didn't say anything for a while, both of them falling into a compassionate silence as their thoughts drifted over their own secrets and unsaid mysteries. It made no sense for Momoi why an angel would go this far for a demon, and she had seen her great share of them, even if by nature she would be inclined to always side with latter. Because of that she wanted to lash out at the creature sitting next to her, for his hypocrisy and stupid moral high ground, but the pain curving those frail shoulders was so raw she bit down her words. The Fall was a heavenly spat, one she had no say in, but this angel was here, obviously lost and in pain, and she couldn't help it as something tugged at her soul to reach forward and press a soothing hand on his arm.

"Who are you?" she asked, most words unfit to encompass what had trespassed between them.

"Kuroko Tetsuya," he answered softly, and did not push her hand away.

"That's not your real name." Her hand stayed where it was, and Kuroko's lips twitched upward in a display of wry amusement.

"Even if it was not the name given to me at first, having chosen it for myself doesn't make it any less real," he countered, her words thrown back casually, even with a tinge of humour that startled a laugh out of the witch, almost breaking the tension that had coiled around them.

"Well then, Kuroko Tetsuya, even if, and I say  _ if  _ I do have some knowledge of what you seek, there might be some conditions for you to get it," she continued, her voice lilted slightly, good naturedly with mischief. That didn't stop the angel from tensing underneath her hand.

"Such as?" he threaded carefully, knowing that even someone with his power could be harmed by a being so strong and old as Momoi. She only smiled in return, retracting her hand and starting to count on her fingers.

"First, if you do want my help, there might be some conditions, because no, I'm sorry, I'm not leaving a clueless angel run around with a cup full of divine power with no knowledge how to use it, thank you very much. No offence," she added hastily, even if her hands were busy pulling away the cowl over her face to reveal a mop of long, pink hair, tightly wound up in an complicated braid. Kuroko out of politeness did the same, fully showing his azure head to match his cerulean eyes.

"None taken."

"Second," the witch continued, "we will have to discuss several aspects of my... nature, as well as the nature of my companion. If I think you will be a danger to either of us with some weird angelic wish to smite us, the deal is off." This amused Kuroko, his motives and nature having long ago separated from those of a true angel. A wry smile wanted to take over, as his thoughts strayed to dunes of endless sand and a scorching sun, as humans bowed in front of the golden thrones, as he and the Pantheon made out of other supernatural beings were worshipped as gods.

Very unagelic, but he kept the thought to himself simply nodding instead, making Momoi smile and continue energetically.

"You will also listen to my reasons and explanations. No offence again, but I doubt you know as much as you think. Anyway, I was kind in a hurry before you so kindly broke my wards, having needed to leave the city. Ahh, this puts a damper on my plans, but I guess you can tag along, it shouldn't be too hard for you to do that, and oh, my bag...," the girl continued in a flurry of exposition that turned from a warning and explanation, to some sort of monologue that she very much seemed used to express. Kuroko watched a bit flabbergasted as Momoi simply forgot about him as she jumped to her feet, sheathed Excalibur, and then nimbly started darting through the house presumably finishing gathering everything she had been doing before he had interrupted. A bit lost, he rose to his feet, barely catching the girl's attention as she darted around muttering about clothes and herbs, not knowing what to do with himself.

It was because of that that it took him longer than usual to feel the energy shift around them, a presence summoning itself through the fabric of space into being. Kuroko first felt the smell, flowery and sunkissed, summer grass and fresh winds, all changed to be just a tad too sweet and pungent, closer to a cloying poison than what had once been a stark and pure smell.

His mind processed all this, but his body froze, eons of memories long ago forgotten, of laughs and peaceful times crashing into him with pain of loss and grief, so powerful that it nearly made his knees buckle, his hands fisting his staff helplessly as his heart squeezed painfully.

As he turned around he knew who he would see, golden and beautifully twisted, an angelic face marred with a grin that was purely wicked at the sight of the smaller angel.

"Kurokocchi," Kise singsonged as he saw the other frozen in the living room of a witch, his face pale, almost ashen eyes wide with disbelief as he took in the beautiful face of one that had once been one of his closest brothers. "Long time no see."

* * *

The carriage was coated in silence, no words being said in the three people rustled around in its confines, the atmosphere leaden with heaviness and silence that seemed cloying, sticking to the words left unsaid and engulfing them in awkwardness.

It would have been amusing if the situation were any different; after all Kuroko was simply glaring at the blond sitting across from him, who was more preoccupied to jiggle around in his seat with a self satisfied smirk, while Momoi seemed ready to declare her loss to the heavens in her exasperation.

As it was, it wasn't  amusing, Kuroko's mix of emotions a dangerous concoction of hurt and bitterness coated in surprise that Kise seemed all more willing to poke at for his own wicked amusement.

"Remind me again why I am not kicking any of you out of the carriage?" Momoi mumbled as she glared at the windows as if the scenery behind it had personally offended her. "It is  _ my _ carriage after all."

"But Momocchi!" Kise whined, already turning his golden eyes wide in shock towards the girl, flipping his low ponytail over his shoulder as he his visage twisted in a painting of mock hurt.

"Why are you even here, Kise-kun," Kuroko intervened before the other could whine further, his own glare set on the demon, knowing that pissing off Momoi would probably result in having the carriage blown over. At that, Kise dropped his act, his eyes narrowing slightly as the imitation of warmth found in their depths slowly slipped away, his smile turning sharp and dangerous. Kuroko was glad; this... this he could deal with. What he couldn't deal with was the fake installment of a memory long ago lost, of blinding smiles and undiluted warmth, of companionship and friendship long ago lost, the mask set in place only a heavy reminder of everything else. Kise's current nature did not scare him; him being a demon - even if a powerful one at that - it didn't bother him, even with all the fanged smiles with a sharp edge of danger, or the slight overpowering and suffocating feel of the other's twisted aura. What scared him was the pain of long forgotten feelings and memories, of thinking of what had been  _ before  _ the Fall when everything had been complete and candid, when his family had been intact, and the dull emptiness in his chest did not spread through his veins like a poisonous disease.

"Why wouldn't I be here?" Kise asked with a sly grin, his eyes glowing just the tiniest bit more yellow, specks of red mixing in them like the painted colours of a dying sunset, vermillion undeniably foretelling the upcoming darkness and silence barely contained underneath the surface. Such a contrast from the angel that once had glowed brighter than all the lights of Heaven, more ephemeral than the warmest lights shining in so many of their brothers’ eyes.

_ It was simply painful _ .

Kuroko's own graced flared underneath his skin, the touch of it cold and electric, a sharp buzzing of detached power, an endless void almost too deep for its wielder, the power that had  _ scared  _ their Father making Him believe it was just too much, almost like a curse. Kise only smiled, the same waiting smile, almost daring, as the atmosphere in the carriage turned heavier close to unbearable as the two divine figures clashed mentally against one another.

Thankfully, Momoi wasn't there to condone any of this, and simply leaned forward and whacked Kise over his head, thus breaking the silent confrontation between the two as the demon simply whined once more and nursed the side of his head the girl had hit.

"Stop having a weenie measuring contest in angelic terms or I'm going to Paris alone," she snapped, clearly unimpressed with the mock display of hurt Kise was showing.

"Where do you know Kise-kun from?" Kuroko asked finally giving up and deciding to try getting a clear answer, and turning towards the fuming witch.

"Well...," Momoi started, but it was clear she didn't know exactly where to start explaining, not having expected the question.

Kuroko's eyes narrowed in distrust, slightly catching hint of the underlying familiarity he had first missed between the two supernatural creatures so caught up in his own shock and surprise at seeing the once-angel. But now it was obvious from the comfortable looks and understanding gestures that the two of them were familiar, If not actually friends, and he was simply an intruder.

As he watched them now he slowly realised that it had been a simple chance that he had stumbled upon a strong witch like Momoi, who had been obviously on the verge of leaving but still lingering by, fact that had changed immediately when the demon had appeared. Connecting the dots, Kuroko felt a slight flare of betrayal and anger he momentarily curbed for the greater good of needing answers and the help of the said witch, for which smiting her would not actually be that helpful.

Not that he was sure he could in the first place.

"Ah," Kise explained understanding the situation just a few seconds after Kuroko did. "I see. Momocchi, what a bad little witch you are not sharing your secrets," he mocked, his voice full of amusement, his golden eyes taking in both the angel sitting in front of him and the witch next to him. "Not telling poor, old, Kurokocchi what you  _ are _ ...," he continued finishing with a simple distressed shake of the head. Momoi looked positively ready to make good on her threat to throw the other from the carriage, but she decided it was more important to speak with the angel first, turning around to face him with a rushed, "I can explain."

Kuroko didn't say anything but simply raised a very pointed eyebrow at the witch, clearly expressing his distrust at her abilities of convincing him of not a) running away or b) attacking them. Momoi only sighed, her hand coming up to play with her ponytail in a simple display of nervousness.

"Ki-chan has been... my protector for a very long time now, and my mother's before me," she started slowly clearly choosing her words, while Kuroko frowned in confusion

"A demon as your protector?" he commented slowly. "Forgive me how I do not see how  _ his kind _ would be willing to that, especially for a  _ human _ ." In front of him Kise winced, a small flicker of pain intermingled with anger passing over his eyes before his mask fell back into place as he leaned back and looked Kuroko over.

"That isn't very nice, Kurokocchi. I didn't peg you for one to show such distinction between angels and demons." And his voice was light, almost airy with indifference, even as his eyes were sharp with accusations.

"Forgive me, Kise-kun, for not rising up to your expectations of me. I thought after a few eons we would both know we were bound to disappoint each other," Kuroko shot back drily, words coated in venom of a deep hurt that had never passed away not truly.

This time Kise did not bother hide his hurt, his flinch candid, a jerk as if Kuroko had slapped him with his words. Momoi looked outraged, her face pinked by her anger, and she seemed ready to make Kuroko take his words back before giving up with a sigh.

"Whatever you think or not of Ki-chan, it is wrong, because he  _ had _ been my protector for the past few centuries, after being done with looking after my mother. The only reason he is here now is because he had gone looking for information I have asked of him. Even if you have lived in a cave for the past few decades you must know that things have become restless, and if I was going to move to the continent by Hell if I wasn't going to go blind into the situation," she explained in a flurry, her previous anger making her words seem more passionate and rushed. Kise simply nodded eagerly, as if to prove Kuroko had been wrong.

Kuroko simply took in her frustration not showing any reaction towards her outburst, simply thinking over what explanation was offered.

"And pray tell, why would a demon do this for you? Last time I saw Kise-kun he was pretty much against humanity as a whole I remember it right."

"Okay, Kurokocchi that's an unfair and very long argument, and you know it wasn't just me being against humanity and all that, and you are a hypocrite considering some of your own views on humanity..." But the long sentence was never finished as Momoi interrupted a very obvious and very convoluted argument - which when happened last, it had thorn Heaven in two - for the good of everyone involved.

"Ki-chan helps me because that has been his mission for the past few centuries," she ended with a finality, breaking the forming storm between the two divine presences.

Kuroko felt just the tiniest touch of impatience and irritation at the other two people in the carriage, as Kise continued to grumble about the Fall as if it hadn't happened more than a few millennia ago, and Momoi still kept her answers vague about the whole reason that of why exactly he was in the company of the other demon for the first time since the said event. "Are you going to answer me plainly?" he chastised drily. "It is simply getting tiring to keep up with both of your levels of energy."

Before Momoi could either strike Kuroko or continue to fluster herself trying to slither away from this line of conversation, Kise gave up on his grumbling simply staring at Kuroko with a peeved look. "For the love of Hell, Kurokocchi. I am here because Hell itself sent me to watch over her bloodline in the first place, some time around the moment Jesus-kun was born," he spat out, shuddering slightly at having to say that holy name. 

As Kuroko turned to look at Kise, the demon sighed and just shook his head in exasperation. "Oh boy, memory doesn't give your glare justice, I forgot after so long how annoyingly stubborn you are when you want to know something," he commented, but even as he was clearly ruffled at having to explain himself to an angel, there was also good natured amusement in his words. "Fine, I'll tell you. The big guys down Bellow knew Father would be wanting to try and save His creation at some point. His Unholiness getting a whiff of the Divine Plan decided to try and stop it, even if just out of principle after so many years of fighting. Because of that his amazing, utterly mind-blowing and foul-proof idea was to make Father's Son fall into temptation, so he shared the blood of one of his most loyal servants with a human, her baby becoming a half-demonling," he ranted furiously. "And I got assigned to watch her so that no one hurt her cursed bloodline from thereon, least the Best. Plan. Ever. Fail," he finished with a perfect roll of his eyes. “I’ll let you guess how that work,” Kise implied sweetly.

To say Kuroko was surprised would have been an understatement. He had heard, of course he had, of their Father's half-holy Son being born... though if he were honest he was still in Egypt around that time and very cut off from everything angelic, so he hadn't cared much about the whole thing. He knew for sure that whatever was bound to happen would happen, and he only cared for one divine being that was for sure not bound to get involved in all that. Still, in hindsight, he supposed he should have thought of the possibility that the Adversary would try and stop that Plan, if only out of principle. He had known Lucifer personally before the Fall, and to say the angel had been petulant when upset it would have been an understatement. Only Father knew how much Michael had suffered.

Still, what surprised him most was the absolute derisive way Kise talked about his... new god? superior? Even if he was more or less a rogue angel at this point, he still strictly adhered to as much respect as he could muster - which was frankly limited; time had made him very reluctant to offer anyone respect as the same people acted like children for most of eternity - to whoever was his superior. To see Kise badmouth the King of Hell himself was a bit shocking at least, and he looked around to see if something would strike them out of Above... or Bellow in this case.

"Oh, don't worry," Momoi said seeing his look. "Ki-chan and I meet each week to rant over our jobs. He is most displeased with Hell's incompetence, and I can't deny everyone is a bunch of morons. Though, that would be the nicest thing he had said about them in the last decades."

"You can do that?" Kuroko asked a bit shocked. Kise simply lifted a nicely trimmed eyebrow, as his golden eyes narrowed.

"Why wouldn't I be able to do that, Kurokocchi? Oh, because I am a demon and work for Hell? That doesn't make them less idiotic than the way Father had been when we had the First War. I am not a  _ slave _ and I certainly am more than able to form my own ideas about things," he hissed, scanting, a wild fire crackling beneath his skin as his own twisted grace flared, an ancient hurt sparking to life. "But nevermind, you probably do think that. Just because we had assumed to pretend not to be the good angels Father wanted us to be, we surely mean we are nothing at all, right?"

Kuroko did not answer, and Kise seemed to get even angrier at his silence assuming it was a confirmation. And in a way it was, a twisted story that had weaved and constructed itself through the span of existence itself, notions of good and evil so hard to disregard clinging to his mind and skin. If he were to be honest, Kuroko would have admitted that the real thing that had hurt him was the betrayal itself, the fallout that broke to pieces the fabric of what had represented comfort and family. That he had always cared little for the notions of Hell and Heaven, a grey angel that had been disregarded before all others have been created. And having had his own chosen family ripped apart had scarred him. But that would also mean admitting he was hurt, that he did not see his demonic brethren as evil the way an angel should, tolerating of their nature and existence. And he had done his own share of blasphemies, more than enough to be smited or worse, Fall, but he had never towed that line, a notion still so scary to cross and follow as it had been eons ago, unable to shake the intrinsic fear of it all.  It had been a choice then. And he had chosen, as had everyone else, and tore its own being with it all.

"Would you say the same if it were  _ him _ ?" Kise snarled when the angel did not respond. "You are a hypocrite Kurokocchi, thinking us as lost when  _ you had all cast us away _ because we had chosen to think differently."

And the mention of  _ that  _ person hurt Kuroko, more than he cared to admit, this time him being the one to growl in warning, his grace flaring just slightly, a touch of an icy wind clogged in ash as he glared to the one that had been one of his closest friends. "That was too far, Kise-kun," he admonished, but Kise only huffed in response, not apologising. He didn't have to in the end; all the lines between them had long ago been crossed.

"Well, my mother failed spectacularly at the task Hell assigned her," Momoi intervened in the heavy silence that fell between the two. "Mary was never the one to conform to orders, even around that time. Ironically, she befriended Jesus instead of tempting him, being one of his most avid followers. Now that I think about it, it was probably her own divine but corrupted essence answering to his, since, well, as all demons were once angels, some of that must have remained. It grounded both of them in a sense. And then she had me, and not long after that she got a bit bored with the whole of humanity and died," she stated bluntly, almost shrugging off the death of her mother as an unimportant and very mundane fact barely needed to be acknowledged. It baffled Kuroko enough to forget his momentary anger with Kise so he could turn and gape at the girl.

From all that information dump Kuroko managed to concentrate on a very simple aspect: "Mary Magdalene?" he croaked out, suddenly thinking perhaps he should have kept a closer eye to the most important divine event in modern history. Momoi simply nodded enthusiastically, if not a little bit proud.

"Yup, the one and only. Thankfully, demonic influence didn't manifest in any way besides a high affinity for magic. Real magic, not what they kill people for these days," she said her face scrunched up in offence. "My father was mortal, but the bloodline still held strong, so here I am," she finished her story with a flourish of her hand from which twinkling sparkles ignited in the air for a few seconds.

As Kuroko only continued to stare uselessly at her Momoi huffed and added as an afterthought. "Oh, and Ki-chan here is my own and personal Hell-guard. " Right... As if  _ that _ was the problem.

Kise only pouted his anger suddenly forgotten, whipped away back in place where Kuroko would have never thought lingered hurt - not anymore, not for a very long time considering what they did - his eyes on Momoi as if announcing that Mary Magdalene had been half demonic in her bloodline and had had a daughter was common occurrence.

"I thought we were friends," he petulantly asked, and Momoi only smiled indulgently leaning forwards to pat his hand consolingly.

"Oh, you know we are and that you're my favourite demon to keep around..."   
"That's because you mostly exorcise the others when you meet them," Kise interrupted with a jab, his eyes rolling at his friends antics, as if a mortal actually having the power to banish the immortals was something to joke about.

"Excuse you, but you must really understand why I do that!" Momoi exclaimed. "Most demons don't have your... manners Ki-chan they are very rude and very poorly dressed. And reek of sulfur." And as she said this she scrunched her nose as if recalling a very awful encounter. "Not to say, if you weren't bound to take care of my bloodline the higher ups wouldn't let you hang around me for too long, and it is dreadful when you meet your friends only every few decades."

Well, that pretty much answered Kuroko's unsaid - actually very much previously said - question about Kise's presence there. And it made sense; if Hell had tried to interfere with the birth of their biggest nuisance they would have put someone in charge of monitoring a mortal running amok with higher powers. The demons were not stupid; they had all once been in Heaven - letting some mongrelling fools with too much knowledge or power was bound to turn against them, Kuroko thought bitterly thinking of the last time that thing happened, and the exact very vocal opinion the desidents of Hell had had over that particular fact. What was truly shocking was that Hell had actually agreed to share their proud bloodline with the beings they had wanted to cease to exist, in some sort of great plan to one up Heaven. It was stupid, so stupid Kuroko thought in between shock and amusement how the two greatest forces of the universe just kept tailing each other on a board of chess made only out of pawns, mirroring moves and thinking of themselves as being smart. Heaven shared its power with the mortals? So would we. The foolish pride of Hell was just as useless as the false superiority of those in Heaven, and the Game was ridiculous.

Everything had been pointless for the longest time, and as Kuroko gazed at Momoi he felt pity. Not because she existed, but because her whole existence was based on some sort of Plan, on some sort of well thought move that have simply turned into a moot point, thus allowing her an illusory gilded freedom. It was unfair, as unfair as the faith of the sacrificial lamb their Father had used to rectify a mistake in his creation Kuroko thought he purposely let them have. 

He was so tired. So very much tired, millennia of weariness and schemes pressing on his shoulders, only slightly buried and forgotten. Staying around his kind only tended to remind him this. He almost wanted to give up.

_ Almost. _

If Kise had still been his friend he would have asked about all this, whether he felt the same hopeless fury as he gazed  at the girl he probably had been around since her birth, someone he clearly considered a friend, Kuroko realised with a pang. He wondered whether Kise was angry how Momoi's existence was a plan, whether he thought how he was his nice jailer besides her friend, whether the shackles of their duty might one day bring her end. Whether he considered it unfair the blood that, now that he knew it was there, Kuroko saw tainting the brilliant light of her soul with flickers of putrid darkness.

But Kise wasn't his friend anymore, and his eyes were sparkling with mischief and his mouth curled into an easy going smile as he prodded and teased Momoi with fond familiarity, even as his aura almost crackled with tension and fury, their earlier argument clearly not forgotten, the accusations and hurt bubbling and bursting all around in the carriage barely restrained. Kise was furious, and he did not look at Kuroko again, the unsaid words between them less harsh than the pained history of their past.

He didn't say anything for a while as the two talked and chatted with an easiness Kuroko hadn't felt in centuries. Millennia. Forever, perhaps. He only watched, and if he were honest perhaps envied the bond formed between these two lost beings, a tainted human and a fallen angel turned demon, companionship and acceptance he had lacked for so long that it hurt to see. Because Kise had been his friend and could barely look his way now; and Momoi was a new acquaintance that despite everything had offered to help Kuroko even knowing what he was and what he planned to do, and considering what she was. But they weren't friends or even allies; they were just there, and they would simply flow away with time, a fabric fraying at the seams, slowly unraveling until nothing was left. It had never lasted even before, when everything was easier and cleaner; how could it now.

"Are you coming with us to Paris?" Momoi asked in the end. They had been travelling for hours, but neither of them was feeling sleepy or inclined to rest. The immortals could very well push away their needs for as long as they needed, and Momoi simply seemed more resilient than most humans. The velvety night was slowly fading into petrol blue skies, clouds intermingling with darkness over a luminescent background of a glowing sky in hue of luminescent rose, the night fading into an early dusk the plains of what had once been barbaric lands surrounding them like a sea of wilderness in seclusion, a timeless moment cut off from reality as they travelled faster and faster from somewhere, heading towards nowhere.

Kise didn't say anything at first, but Kuroko had seen Kise first spread his wings and soar through the sky before night truly existed at another dawn, when the world was really born not as a simple figure of speech. It was not hard for him to see the demon clench his jaw for a second, his eyes seemingly lost upon the never ending greenery and earthy colours. He was almost sure the other would decline - he would have after all. He was less sure what answer he truly hoped to receive.

In the end Kise surprised both of them by affirming with a long suffering sigh that he will come. "After all, I could not leave Kurokocchi here alone with you, Momocchi. He is an  _ angel _ ," and what really hurt wasn't the veiled insult at his grace or intentions, or the sharp golden glare thrown his way, but the name. The nickname cut so deeply it felt like a stab wound, his whole soul mourning and cringing in hurt as the air was knocked out of Kuroko's lungs, the longing and pain so sharp it seemed like the world had crumbled and constricted at the same time.

He hadn't heard that name in so, so long, and the first time Kise had said it, the shock of their meeting had been enough to dull any reaction. But now, said like that, with Kise cruelly and mockingly sweetening the word in a pretend of what had been it hurt, a deep dulled pain that had never went away but quietly resonated since the Fall of everyone he cared about around him.

Momoi seemingly lost the edge of their exchange, immediately turning into a bubbly happy mess at having Kise around for longer and making plans for all of them - including Kuroko much to everyone's surprise. But Kise surely didn't, and considering the small and cruel smile sent his way, the words had been said on purpose, just a tiny jagged edge of hurt around his smirk to express this was simply a comeback for Kuroko's earlier accusations.

Perhaps he deserved it. Perhaps he didn't. He couldn't care much about it anyway as someone that had been one of his closest brothers gave him a look like that. It simply hurt.

* * *

They didn't really exchange many words from that point on. A fact Kuroko had regretted even a few centuries later, even as the waters of their conversations have long stilled from the hurt tumultum that they had been. He still regretted that whole encounter, as so many things until then and thereafter.  And even so, some things ran deeper than the hurt. Or perhaps some other loses where even bigger than the bad blood between them. 

  
It was one night during their stay in Paris when Kise finally broke down, a few bottles of that century’s finest whiskey spread around the expensive carpets like forgotten teardrops gleaming in the playful flames of the fire. And neither of them could pretend that it was alcohol muddling the demon's words when he cried out, an agony so deep and painful Kuroko felt it resonate in his own soul with a familiar tune of loss.

"How is he?" Kise had asked, his form scrunched over in the chair next to the fire, his elbows on his knees as he pressed the pad of his palms into his eyes - quite uselessly Kuroko thought - as he tried to stave off the tears.

"Who?" he responded, even if there was really no need to ask who Kise was asking about, the misery in his voice an all out giveaway, no masks or pretend on his scrunched form with a familiar heaviness of millennia long hurting. It was horrible, painful to watch, Kuroko's grace swirling inside him with familiarity, recognising both his friend and the suffering in his voice, and he felt awful. Awful because Kise was almost brought to his knees underneath the pain Kuroko reminded him off, the pain of the deepest loss an immortal could go through, and he was a living reminder everything Kise had left behind with his choice. And even so, he had never felt  _ closer _ , more understood or comfortable in the presence of another being for too long. And he should not relish Kise's suffering, but here he was, painfully hurting for the other, his grace screaming with loss and the  _ need _ to go and help his brother - a brother even after all this time, an admission he both hated and found comfort in - and yet something was also oddly unwinding in the face of the other's painful honesty, a feeling of coming home so heavy and painful it was almost too much to bear.

" _ You know who _ !" Kise almost screamed in response, his eyes blazing a golden fire speckled with lost piece of hellfire, so close to what they had been so long ago it was painful, yet intrinsically different. "You know exactly who, Kurokocchi!" And even if Kuroko knew Kise was angry, his voice cracked and wobbled unwillingly, as Kise  closed his eyes trying to gain his composure.

"You are just standing here, being here, and you are so close and so  _ holy _ , your grace almost painfully burning on my skin when it flares, and yet so familiar, a reminder of everything of that was, and yet..." Kise didn't continue but Kuroko understood perfectly. It was the same for him. Kise was here, a brother and an enemy, a reminder and someone to hate and protect. The ambivalence of their emotions was so strong it could have destroyed galaxies, but it was only a machinery collapsing underneath its own weight making him almost unable to think or know how to react.

"I don't think that is a good idea, Kise-kun," Kuroko finally said from across the room, his figure just as unmoving as it had been as when he had first walked in and had seen his friend alone and drinking.

"I. Don't. Care!" Kise yelled, the words echoing in the empty house. It was a statement and a declaration, as if simply willing things could have made them right again. Kuroko simply closed his eyes, unable to watch Kise like this, when he was here exactly for the same purpose. Hypocrite. Coward. But that had always been true, and had he not been then perhaps they would have never found themselves in this position.

"Please," Kise begged, and it was that broke Kuroko, made him forget about everything in Creation, about their Father, about the Fall, about his mixed feeling for Kise. A simple syllable filled with the entirety of desperation humanity could never even begin to phantom.

He was across the room in an instant, and he could not tell who was the first one to cling to the other. Kise's arms simply hugged along his middle, his face coming to rest upon his middle, tears already embedded in his tunic, as Kuroko simply hugged him over his shoulders, his hands tangling on their own with familiarity in silky golden hair. Kise sobbed harder, and Kuroko's own eyes prickled with tears as he gazed downwards at the shaking figure of his friend. The ache in his chest pulsed with every heartbeat, and it was horrible, a searing pain that was both soothed by the proximity to the other and made so much worse.

Even where they touched it was slightly painful, a small part of him recoiling at touching the being that was a demon, even as the rest of him simply cherished the embrace of a lost brother. It was a painful contrast like everything between them nowadays.

"Aomine-kun is fine," he finally said, and Kise only whined pitifully at hearing the name of his mate, his hands tightening almost painfully where they gripped around Kuroko. "Or as fine as he can be considering everything," Kuroko continued after he dredged his voice, and even so it was scrappy with emotion.

"Tell me," Kise begged, and Kuroko with a sigh did. Told him about a dark angel that like all of them was not even close to who he had been before the Fall. He told Kise about how his mate had been just as affected by the loss as he had been, and Kise sobbed, wretched sobs of loss and agony, his whole tainted grace twisting with the need to touch another that was not there and had not been there for a very long time

"He will never forgive me," Kise wheezed between sobs. "He will never even want to ever look at me. And he would be right. I did this. I did this to us! And he will never be close to me ever again, Kurokocchi, and it  _ hurts _ ."

"I know, Kise-kun," Kuroko answered each time, even as his own eyes filled with more tears, offering simple platitudes and encouragements that echoed hollowly in between with impossible promises. And if his wings at some point spread out, a curtain of ashen feathers to cover them both as if it could protect them from the outside world, neither said anything as they drowned in a common pain, the understanding between them in that moment the closest it had been since they had been able to read each other's minds in Heaven.

Yet, even as Kuroko's grace tried soothing, even as Kise wailed and clung to Kuroko, everything between them was wrong. So very wrong because it hurt in more ways than emotionally, and no matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, Kise could not pretend Kuroko's grace - even as soothing and familiar as his was - was the thing he longed so fiercely for.

In the end Kise fell asleep in a fitful sleep, and Kuroko simply pulled his wings and hands away, taking a blanket to put around the other fallen angel before vanishing the empty bottles with a wave of his hand. It wasn't until he was in the emptiness of his own borrowed quarters that he simply slid down the closed door behind him, his head resting on his knees as he scrunched his eyes painfully tight willing his tears away even as his teeth painfully bit into the flesh of his own arm to keep the sobs at bay.

It took Kuroko every ounce of holy grace in his being not to turn around and shake Kise, not to beg him on his knees to know in turn about his own mate. It would only have hurt worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few things about this chapter: The story is intentionally not giving all the details about what had happened, and we will come back to what had happened in Paris in just a few chapters, as it is directly related to what was already mentioned in chapter 1. I also what to mention a few facts in case it was unclear:  
> -Momoi is a witch, daughter of Mary Magdalene who had half demon blood. Her relation to Akashi is currently unknown. She was also the witch of Camelot who helped raise Arthur, but we all know how legend goes...  
> -Kise is a fallen angel/demon. He was mated with Aomine before the Fall. He was also one of the closest brothers to Kuroko in Heaven.  
> -Kuroko is implied to have actually have spent quite a some time in Egypt lol. This will probably come later on back again, but needless to say, he wasn't just visiting. 
> 
> There are quite a few plot lines that will start coming up together slowly, so I hope you're enjoying so far! Many thanks to Nia, who had dragged me into this (I still hate you), and helped me make some sense of the catastrophe she has started. Please comment any questions/concerns/impressions/ideas, we would love to hear them considering the amount of lore we are playing with! More of GoM to come~


End file.
